The Writings on the Wall
by Susannah
Summary: Harry and Ron work as Detective Aurors for the new Ministry of Magic. What starts out as something run-of-the-mill, gradually turns into something much more deadly. Romance on the side of course (i couldn't write a story without that) R
1. Nothing Extraordinary

A/n: ok, I cracked! I just _had_ to start writing this story. I'm sorry, it's strange, but I like it :)

Nothing Extraordinary

Harry put the crystal goblet patiently down on the polished wood.

"Mrs Fraser, I understand this is a very distressing time for you and please let me know if there's anything I can do to help. However, we need some vital background information on your husband." He gestured at his partner, Ron, who had sprawled all six foot five of himself on the couch, making it look tiny in comparison.

Mrs Fraser sniffed into a very worn looking handkerchief, displaying swollen eyes from behind the pink frilliness. "He was a g- g- good man," she stuttered.

"We know," agreed Ron sympathetically, helping himself to another chocolate biscuit. "That's why we're here to help."

"When was the last time you saw your husband?" Harry asked calmly, hoping she wouldn't burst into tears again. He had never been sure how to deal with emotional women.

"Last Thursday," she replied automatically, pulling antagonistically at neat greying curls. "The police have already asked all these questions," Mrs Fraser reminded them, again. "Where did you say you were from?"

"We're from the Missing People's Association," Harry lied fluently, wishing that it were more difficult for him.

"Oh," sniffed the older women. "Would you like some tea?"

Harry shook his head. "I still have some fruit juice left." Her gaze shifted to Ron.

"And you, Mr. Webber?"

Ron shook his head, his mouth still full of biscuits. "I'm quite happy with my milk," he muffled, holding up the glass to show them. Mrs Fraser smiled indulgently.

Harry blinked twice, before sighing deeply and rolling his eyes. Ron was a hard, business-like, trained, Detective Auror. Well, he was until food made an appearance.

"So, last Thursday," he prompted, shaking black hair out of his eyes. "What time?"

"Eight O'clock before he went to work," she replied, seeming to have some sort of hold over her emotions for the time being.

"He worked in London, yes?"

"Yes," agreed the older woman. "He made blinds. He was paid very well."

Internally Harry nodded, Daniel Fraser had either been very clever or very stupid. It had always been frowned upon – marrying muggles – but even more so in the rise and reign of Voldemort. But to keep the fact he was a wizard from his wife for over twenty years, it seemed nearly impossible.

Dan Fraser had been a better part of the Department of Mysteries; he'd worked his way up the ranks steadily, earning trust and respect. The Order of the Phoenix had accepted him into their midst at Dumbledore's request. Now he was missing, and it was their job to find out why.

"Has Mr Fraser mentioned anything or anybody in the past few weeks that in any way sounded suspicious?"

The woman shook her head mutely, once again appearing to be on the verge of tears. Ron stood up, his expression clearly saying 'we're not going to get any help out of her'. Harry nodded, almost imperceptibly.

"Well, thank you for your help Mrs Fraser," he said formally holding out a hand for her to shake. It seemed she almost clung to the gesture, wishing they wouldn't go, wouldn't leave her alone with all the possibilities.

Ron looked longingly at the remaining homemade biscuits before unexpectedly being engulfed in a hug by the stout middle-aged woman.

The tall redhead disentangled himself politely, but with difficulty, Harry observed with amusement.

"I'm sorry," apologised Mrs Fraser, wringing her hands. "You just remind me so much of my son." Her eyes went glassily wistful. "I wish he would come back."

"That's okay," assured Ron, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Thank you for the milk and biscuits. We will do our utmost best to find your husband for you."

The first smile they'd seen flitted across her face. "I know you will," she reached up – and it was a long way – to ruffle his hair familiarly.

Harry fought down the grin, but lost miserably as it broke over his face. Ron's expression was priceless.

They left the small cottage, waved off from the door by the enigmatic, but weeping, woman.

"She has a grip like iron, I can tell you," exclaimed Ron. "We could get her on the force as a detainment officer!"

Harry chuckled at the mental picture this conjured up. He sobered; "She's a poor lady though."

"And absolutely no use at all," observed Ron. "We haven't got much to go on for Fraser's disappearance."

"No," agreed Harry, concentrating on the road that led from the small cul-de-sac in rural Kent back into London. "Maybe the Dark Sheep found something though."

"Oh yes," snorted Ron, throwing Harry a glance of hilarity. "Maybe the dark-side has something to offer. Like it even exists anymore," he mocked

"It always exists," countered Harry, thinking far too deeply for his liking. "But I doubt it will be of any use in this case."

"It does seem quite open and closed doesn't it?" the redhead agreed munching on some Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. "He probably just went off for some alone time and will be back safe and sound next week."

"We can only hope," Harry muttered. "We can only hope."


	2. Discussion

Disclaimer: I don't own much, the plot and a couple of characters. The rest of the wonderful world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K.Rowling.

Discussion

Ron walked into the Auror headquarters just ahead of Harry. He nodded informally at the two guards on duty, Bob and Ben he thought their names were, they acknowledged him back, then their eyes were drawn – as ever – to Harry Potter cruising listlessly behind him.

If anything, Harry had become more of a celebrity since leaving school than he ever was as a heroic baby. It wasn't that the guy tried to prove himself, Ron thought. Just that he couldn't help himself where the courageous circumstances were concerned. The redhead had long since come to terms with his own less-than-famous situation and found that, in their particular line of work, being legendary wasn't always a plus.

There were two men lounging next to their desk, looking decidedly smug.

Ron was about to give them an earful as one of them was sitting in his seat, but then saw they had a rather plentiful supply of donuts.

"Malfoy, Zabini," Harry acknowledged. Both the dark-haired and the blonde man nodded back.

"Lets go for a walk," Malfoy announced calmly. "You can bring the donuts," he replied to Ron's unspoken question.

The courtyard that stretched away outside the dull and insipid-looking building that was the Auror HQ. On their very first job when they'd been thrown unceremoniously together, the four men had adopted a small ditch beneath a magnificent weeping willow as their discussion point. This is where they sat now; Harry and Ron perched on some low-lying boulders, whilst Blaise lolled on the crest of the ditch. Draco paced restlessly in front of them. Never a good sign.

"Well, what did the dark-side have to offer?" prompted Ron, after a prolonged silence.

"We never got there," replied Blaise, speaking first. "Besides, our informant wouldn't have been very helpful – he got arrested this morning."

"What for?" Ron inquired.

"I think he was trying to start a cult," the dark-haired man responded thoughtfully. "They had spandex outfits and everything – "

"Why does Malfoy look like he's about to have an aneurism?" Harry cut the small talk off abruptly. "What _did_ you find?"

Ron and Blaise exchanged looks. On some (completely suppressed) level Ron found he got on quite well with Zabini, whereas the Blonde-wonder still had a wonderful gift for driving him up the wall.

"Fraser turned up," Malfoy finally declared.

"Well, that's good," Ron said slowly. "Isn't it?" He thought of the warm, but completely heart-broken woman they had not long left behind.

"His memory has been wholly wiped. He doesn't even remember his name."

Not as bad as the man being dead, but still quite high up on the list of bad possibilities. Ron bit his lip. "Oh."

"Where was he found?" asked Harry walking to the edge of the curtain of branches that segregated them from the rest of the workers.

"Wandering Knockturn Alley," informed Zabini, pulling absent-mindedly at the grass. "By the time we got to see him he was quite a mental mess. Asking us who he was, why we wanted him, what we were going to do with him..." he trailed off, a haunted look in his eyes. His mother had ended up that way, courtesy of his father who had then proceeded to disown Blaise – losing both parents in a single day was one of his most intense memories.

"They sent him to St Mungo's," Draco took over.

"Damn," muttered Harry. He hated dead-end cases.

Ron munched on a donut somewhat loudly. "Have they worked out where he disappeared yet?"

Blaise shook his head. "Apparently he just went to the loo and never came back. His co-worker, a Mr Blaine I believe, went to look for him to find he wasn't there."

"People don't just _disappear_," snorted Draco, descending gracefully on the rock Harry had absented.

"I checked the toilet," Harry replied. "Toilets lock from the inside, one window at the top of the west-facing wall – which was seven feet tall," he said quickly, seeing Blaise' mouth opening to ask the predictable question. "The window was circular, twelve inches across; not nearly wide enough to climb out of. Anti-apparition wards up, of course. There was no sign of a struggle, the only sign that he'd been there at all was his pocket watch left on the floor."

"Deliberately or dropped?" Draco inquired, subconsciously trusting Harry's opinion.

The Boy-who-Lived shrugged. "Could be either. The only thing was it was set two hours fast."

The four men lapsed into silence, considering the case and the chance that it could all prove to be a waste of time.

"We should get back," Ron asserted. He'd run out of donuts and they weren't making any headway here.

In silence, they strolled back to their office, a haggled formation that drew looks from everyone passed. Each of them had a claim to fame in their own right, but together they were something to be celebrated.

"Potter, I need to see you now," ordered Macreadie, their boss, as soon as they had arrived. Harry threw a questioning look over his shoulder but Ron just shrugged.

"What's the matter sir?" Harry asked curiously.

"Hoes the Fraser case coming along?" the balding man barked, reclining into his leather armchair.

"Not-so-well," answered the Auror truthfully.

"Mungo's sent this over," Alistair said. Generally called SubstantiAl by his employees in tribute to his rather large frame, or Subby for short.

Harry picked up the sheet of paper; a black snake was emblazoned in the centre of the page in a meandering 's' shape. He looked at his superior questioningly.

"It was found branded in the small of his back," Macreadie responded gravely. "I don't need to tell you the gravity of what this could mean if it got to the press." Harry shook his head, headlines such as 'Snake of Slytherin found on man from Mysteries' flitting across his imagination. "I want to crack this case," continued the balding man, fixing Harry with an appraising look.

The young man whole-heartedly agreed, but it wouldn't be easy. Sensing his senior was done he turned to go. "Oh, and Potter," added Alistair Macreadie quickly. Harry turned to face him. "Tell Malfoy to stop harassing my secretaries."

Harry gave a sharp nod of accord and left the small office, smirking.


	3. Small Talk

A/n: this chapter is more of a link than anything, not one of my favourites so far I have to say. But it is necessary – some background information if you please. Next chapter will be getting into the grisly bones of the plot (quite literally) and the story will actually start to start. The rating will be for later chapters that may be quite dark from time to time. Not yet though! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, and drop me a note to say what you think.

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Small Talk

Draco watched his three companions thoughtfully. Never in his wildest dreams or, indeed, darkest nightmare, believe it would end up like this. The great Draco Malfoy working with perfect Potter, the weasel and the Dark-Annoying-One, but although he'd have to be properly tortured to admit it, he found it satisfying work.

Primarily the four starkly different personalities had clashed terribly. Almost resulting in them failing in their first ever case, losing the murderer. But, when it came to the real crunch, each member of the unluckily founded group came to realise that their differences were actually their strengths.

Potter had an undeniably rash streak to him, that occasionally led to trouble for the group, but he was terribly observant, able to picture and remember a crime scene down to the tiniest detail. He also wasn't afraid to put his life on the line for any of them, even Draco, which earned his respect and a grudging dislike that Draco couldn't find it in himself to dismiss.

Weasley was still the overly loud and quick-tempered boy that Draco remembered from Hogwarts, but the redhead had an unerring sense of loyalty and sensitivity. This came across evidently in his personality, making him the perfect candidate to deal with the general public. He could easily extract information from even the most difficult witness with his sincere and friendly attitude. And of course, defying the amount of food he ate, he was still lean and strong and a definite pro to have on side at the crunch moment.

Zabini had changed the most since Draco had seen him at Hogwarts. They had been reunited in the waiting room of St Mungos, after Mrs Zabini had lost her memory. That had set the fire of righteousness into Zabini, putting him firmly on the path of crime fighting and Draco had gone along for the ride, at first only as a time killer, but soon found that the work suited him.

Blaise was highly analytical, calculating every angle and possibility that went into a plan or crime. He, too, had earned Draco's respect over the two years they'd worked together.

"Oi, Narcissus!" interrupted Ron throwing a paper aeroplane deftly at his head. Draco ducked and glared simultaneously.

And him? He had the contacts. As well as the cool logic that spotted a flaw from a mile away, especially those of the people around him. He wasn't afraid of telling them either.

"Watch it Weasel-boy," he warned. Ron pretended to shake in terror.

Harry held up the black snake silhouette. "We were wondering if you recognised this?"

"Yes," bristled Draco. "It's a snake." Ron rolled his eyes. "What were you expecting me to say? 'Oh yes that looks exactly like the one I branded Fraser with after I kidnapped him'?"

"He didn't mean that at all," interjected Zabini, taking the paper from Potter. "I just said I thought I recognised when we were doing the rounds last year, and we were wondering if you could expand on that."

Draco regretted his harsh reaction, but, of course, he didn't let it show. "If I had recognised it, I would have said straight off," he said, reminding them that – whatever else he might be – he was a solid part of the team all the same.

There was silence as the four of them contemplated where they could possibly go from there.

"Has the elusive Mr. Blaine been questioned?" Zabini asked suddenly.

"Yes," replied Weasley. "All he could say was he saw Fraser go in, but never come out. Which we knew already."

"We're not getting anywhere," Potter concluded, glancing at the clock. "Time to call it a day I think." The three men nodded their assent and began gathering their stuff together, subdued.

* * *

Hermione bustled around the small thatched cottage, fixing paintings and photographs so they were perfectly straight, dusting surfaces, covering her heinous boredom. It wasn't that she didn't like being a mother; in fact she loved it, but some days she just wished so hard for a mental challenge of some kind.

The children were presently as 'Auntie Ginny's house', playing with their cousins. Hermione thought she'd never get used to referring to the youngest Weasley sibling in such a way. but then she never thought she'd get used to being addressed as 'Mrs Weasley'. Not that Hermione had seen much of her husband lately, he was embroiled in his work – which she completely encouraged – she just wished she got to spend more time with him.

As though in answer to her thoughts, she heard the key turning in the front door lock. A quick look at the clock read five O'clock; he was _never_ home at this time!

"Hermione?" Ron's deep timbre echoed around the cottage, still making her shiver after so many years.

"You're home early," she called in reply, keeping her voice steady.

He entered the modest, but clean, kitchen, instantly making it seem considerably smaller, straining to house his impressive frame. Hermione watched him, a small smile curling at a corner of her lips.

"The kids?" he inquired, not missing the predatory gleam in his wife's eye.

"Out." She swayed towards him, entwining her fingers at the back of his neck. His arms went around her and Hermione felt she was properly home, he was her home.

Her lips sought his, familiar and gentle, bodies hardly touching at first. It quickly became something demanding and lustful, the passion they'd never lost, through their fights and denial, their loss and insecurity. Five years of marriage and two children had done nothing to dampen it, nothing at all.

* * *

Actrez – my one reviewer, boy do I appreciate you. Thanks so much for giving this story a shot! Means a LOT. But anyway, I hope you enjoy it! (I know I am!)

_Xx Susannah xx_


	4. A New Horizon

Disclaimer: i don't own any of the characters that you recognise!   
  
A New Horizon   
  
Ginny drank her morning coffee slowly. Savouring every drop of the slightly tasteless cheap liquid the Ministry managed to churn out.

_They could market this stuff as insect repellent or something_, she thought absently to herself.

But still, the longer she took 'drinking' her coffee, the less time she would have to spend with Gropey.

Robert Groppel was the director of her Potion Forensic sect and every time he called her to his office insisted on touching her arse. Or staring at her boobs. Or both, depending on what mood he was in. Therefore earning the nickname of 'Gropey' among the female staff.

She shuffled papers across her desk after earning a glare from Mrs Tate. Ginny was pretty sure Mrs Tate thought she was a slacker and a waste of money. She was also pretty sure that Mrs Tate and Mr Groppel were having an illicit affair, but that was neither here nor there.

Her last case files had been stacked neatly against the side of the tall, grey filing cabinet to her left. In fact, they were the only neat things on her desk; the rest of it was a vast array of spellotape, parchment and quills. Her partner in the potions lab was Lilith Sinclair – a neat freak in her own right – who often scolded Ginny about her work place, flat, lab etc.

"Ginevra!" cooed Mr Groppel from his office. "Here, now, please!"

Ginny grimaced to herself, the only thing worse than his slightly perverted tendencies was the tone of his voice. She grabbed the neatly stacked files – Lilith's work of course – and headed into the inimitably decorated directors office.

As she always did, Ginny ignored the fact that the room and her hair clashed terribly. But then, not many colours went with that particular shade of bright sick-green.

"These are the files from the Howarth inquiry," she said, placing the files precariously at the edge of the desk.

Gropey nodded, gesturing for her to sit. This could mean only one thing, another case for her and Lilith.

"There has been a murder," he announced melodramatically.

"Where?" Ginny inquired. She was curious, usually the two of them got stuck with long since dead and dusted cases that were generally too complicated for anyone to actually solve.

"Knockturn Alley. The rabid end." Groppel pulled a few parchments out from under a towering stack in the corner, scratching his entirely unnatural toupee thoughtfully. "Here," he added, handing them to Ginny.

She opened them to find a girl staring out at her from the first page. The girl was stunning, but not in an orthodox way. She had artificially blonde hair sticking out all around her head, like a weird sort of halo, a small, but pointed face and amazingly bright green eyes. In the photo she hardly appeared to move, almost as if in a muggle photo, from time to time she blinked or tucked invisible strands of hair behind her ears, but otherwise stayed completely still.

'Cassia Roberts' was proclaimed beneath the photo and next to it was a brief biography.

"She went to Hogwarts," Ginny marvelled out loud.

"Yes, do you recognise her?" Gropey questioned, staring pointedly at her boobs. Ginny shifted uncomfortably.

"Not really," the redhead admitted, studying the photo hard. "Although I recognise the name. When did she die?"

"This morning." The older man smirked at her shocked expression. "Yes I thought it was time to scoop you and Sinclair out of the Cold Cases and get you to use your expertise in the present world."

Ginny nodded her assent, although she barely needed to – he did whatever he pleased anyway. "How did she die?" she questioned instead.

He became unusually sombre. "She was tortured, that's all they know. The Aurors were reluctant to move the body, so you have the entire crime scene at your disposal." Groppel said the whole last sentence as he would when giving a very big Christmas present to a very small child. Ginny doubted whether she'd like this particular 'present'.

When she had finally escaped from the Directors wandering gaze, Ginny needed another cup of the murky brown caffeinated liquid before she could even think of doing anything. This earned yet another disapproving frown from Mrs Tate.

Ginny fled the office not long after; afraid that anymore glowers of condemnation from her co-worker could cause her to burst into flames.

The lab was, oh-so-usefully, on the other side of the entire Potions Forensic building to the offices, so it was a decent five to ten minute walk, most of which Ginny spent turning the picture of the girl's face over in her mind.

_Cassia. Why can't I remember where I've heard that name?_

Lilith Sinclair quickly strolled into view. All five-foot-ten of her. Although Ginny was loath to admit, her partner and friend towered over her, and was not frightened of Ginny's temper either. She frequently reminded Ginny of their height difference, discovering early on that it irritated the redhead no end.

The two women were, essentially, very different people. Lilith was tall and willowy, with long, flowing, blonde hair. Blue eyes took up a surprising amount of her face giving her a permanently innocent, deer-in-the-headlights, look about her. She was also a stickler for turning up on time, being neat and tidy, paying the rent promptly and not putting off things until tomorrow what could be done today.

Ginny on the other hand had never managed to get past five-foot-four, apparently inheriting her mother's genes as opposed to her fathers. Her hair, if anything, had darkened over the years that meant she could now wear considerably more coloured clothing than she could at Hogwarts. Her eyes were still the rusty – in her opinion wholly unexciting – brown they'd always been. And, in sharp contrast to Lilith, Ginny had yet to actually turn up on time for anything, liked to prevaricate and was a lot more laid back than her friend and flatmate.

"I just heard!" Lilith declared. They continued, side-by-side, down the whitewashed corridor towards the staff car park. "Anything is welcome to get out of that lab!"

"Still having Tyson problems?" Ginny inquired, winking saucily.

Lilith gave her a dark look in return, scooping blonde hair back out of her face. Tyson was a fellow lab assistant, and had had a crush on Lilith for almost three years.

"What's her name?" asked the blonde, flawlessly changing the subject.

"Cassia Roberts. Found this morning, seven fifty-three, a warehouse in the backstreets of Knockturn."

"What did she work as?" Lilith questioned, her brow furrowed.

Ginny searched the front page of the report, but couldn't find her job. She looked through the second page too and finally found it, printed in very tiny letters at the bottom. She understood why it wasn't on the front now.

"She worked as a prostitute."

* * *

_Actrez – I'm glad you liked Draco's perspective! Thank you so much for your review, you are very dedicated!___

_Victoria27 – I'm glad they pull you in, because this is shaping up to be quite long and involved!_

_Xx Susannah xx_


	5. Discoveries

Disclaimer: none of the characters you recognise are mine. Every one/thing else is!  
  
A/n: ok, this chapter is quite vivid with some of the descriptions. Read it at your own risk!  
  
Discoveries  
  
A forensics assistant met them at the dented wooden doors of the abandoned warehouse. His name was Neil Campbell and Ginny herself had had little contact with him, but had heard lots of hearsay.

Generally held as a womaniser, Neil obviously took a lot of pride in his appearance; his light brown hair was arranged in a typically deliberate 'I just got out of bed' look and Ginny reeled slightly from the overpowering aftershave aroma.

"Hello ladies," he said, winking. "How can I be of service?"

"We're from the PF department. Sent to blueprint the scene." Lilith replied, her eyes on level with Campbell's. Ginny could tell from the occasional flinch of her eyelid that she found Neil rather irritating.

"Potions Forensic eh?" he surveyed them doubtfully. "Can I see some ID please?"

Ginny got hers out, Lilith considerably more reluctantly. The women were two of a kind; usually most female graduates went into secretarial, teaching or nursing jobs. By branching out into science, Ginny and Lilith had broken the mould, so were held in respect by those who knew them, suspicion by those who didn't, and distrust by the elder members of the science department.

"Ok," Neil announced, handing them back. "If you just come this way and I'll give you le tour de la murder scene." The redhead and blonde followed mutely, exchanging looks behind the lab assistant's back.

He led them out a side door onto a small alley with cracked paving stones. "This is where she was actually attacked." Neil pointed to a stain across the wall.

"With a knife?" Ginny exclaimed curiously, going forwards to examine the spattered blood.

"Yes," agreed Campbell. "But we found magical residue inside the warehouse. Crucio," he added to their questioning looks.

"Could we see where the body was found?" Lilith asked whilst Ginny took swabs from the blood on the wall.

"You can, in fact, see the body," replied the assistant. "She hasn't been sent to the morgue yet."

"Isn't that a bit odd?" Ginny inquired, standing up from the wall and surveying the surroundings of the alleyway. Opposite the wall was a dark brown fence reaching at least six and a half feet, there was ivy meshing and tangling across it. She caught a faint glint of silver against the afternoon sun.

"Yes," Campbell was saying. "But the boss didn't want to move her 'til one of the PF's had had a look at her. One of you," he corrected quickly.

"Lil, can you reach up there?" Ginny asked, ignoring the assistant. Lilith stopped glaring at the brown-haired man and turned to where she was pointing. From among the nestled ivy leaves she extracted a glittering ring.

Neil peered curiously over their shoulders as Lilith and Ginny inspected the ring interestedly. Inlaid into the silver was a blood red garnet, shimmering as they watched it, on the inside of the ring were markings that the two girls did not recognise.

"It looks like a signet ring or something," Ginny muttered. She promptly bagged it and turned back to Campbell, finding him watching her inscrutably.

"The body?" Lilith pressed, awkwardly, not missing the unreadable look he gave Ginny.

"Oh yes, of course," he covered quickly. Campbell turned sharply away and led them silently in from the alleyway.

Ginny and Lilith had a silent conversation behind his back that consisted of mouthing and facial contortions.

"And you might be?" The redhead looked up at the most gorgeous man she'd ever seen. He was eyeing her curiously, probably because of her and Lilith's interesting facial gymnastics. Ginny blushed.

"Lilith Sinclair," the blonde replied, calmly holding out a hand. The man shook it politely, darting his eyes to her face only briefly before continuing to stare at Ginny.

Ginny felt herself wilt slightly under his tenuous gaze. "Ginevra Weasley," she said, trying to reproduce the same tone as Lilith.

"Christian Clough." There was a silence while Ginny found herself being swallowed by the depths of brown eyes.

"This is the overseeing officer," Campbell announced, interrupting the redhead's reverie.

There was another pregnant silence while the four youths watched each other.

"So... the body?" Lilith pushed again, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.

"Oh yes, just this way." Campbell again had an indecipherable look on his features.

"So you're the girls from the PF department?" Clough asked falling in step next to Ginny. "Groppel said you'd not be what we expected."

Ginny felt, rather than saw, Lilith's irritable look. She was surprisingly touchy if anyone so much as implied that they were not able purely because they were girls, the redhead didn't let it get to her as much.

She shrugged in answer. "We usually aren't. But we get the job done." This last was for Lilith's benefit.

"Oh no I wasn't doubting that." He paused, looking at them curiously. At at-least six-foot he managed to look down on them, even Lilith. "We don't usually call in the PF department on these sort of murders you should know."

"So why this time?" asked Ginny.

"This girl was squeaky clean." At her incredulous look he quickly amended. "Apart from the undesirable job, I mean. She had no long running relationships – so no mad exes -; she'd only been a prostitute for under a month, although relatively unknown, she had a solid background of friends and family."

Lilith smirked. "Let me guess? You used to be a profiler."

He didn't acknowledge her, but his cheeks went slightly pink. "We called you in with the hope that you'd find some unique magical DNA, or even the run-of-the-mill stuff, that will actually give us a foundation to work on. At the moment, a schizophrenic three-legged Satsuma could have killed her, and we wouldn't be any the wiser."

Ginny nodded. He sounded sincere, but she couldn't shake the feeling he was hiding something important.

"If you see just here," Neil said abruptly to Lilith. Ginny looked to where they were inspecting. At first all she could make out were shapes, but eventually she realised she was looking at the dead girl's – Cassia's – hair. It stuck out sharply in relation to the floor. Her body was splayed at random angles, all her bones obviously splintered at some point or another. She lay on her front; head down, with one leg bent sharply outwards – at a right angle to her body. Her arms too, were bent backwards in the wrong direction, giving the horrible parody of a rag doll.

"You didn't even turn her over?" Lilith asked. She had always had a much stronger stomach than Ginny had. And the redhead wasn't exactly easily scared.

"The first man who found her did," Campbell replied, his voice slightly hushed. "They had to send him to St Mungo's as he had a mild stroke."

Lilith knelt beside the dead woman, moving her arm to the body's shoulders. Ever so gently she eased it over until it lay flat on it's back.

Ginny fought the urge to gasp, keeping her features as still as she could. Cassia's face was shocking.

Her mouth was open in a silent scream that would never be heard again, the teeth starkly white against the blood that had congealed on her lips. There were furrows in her cheeks where it looked like her nails had ripped in, trying to escape the agony of the Cruciatus Curse Ginny suspected. But by far the worst were her eyes. They were pulled open almost impossibly wide, glassy in death, the whites showing against the vivid green Ginny remembered from the photo.

On her forehead, just beneath the hairline was a black pattern. Ginny leaned closer to see what it actually was. This time she did gasp. There, on Cassia Robert's temple, was a brand that looked terribly like a snake.

A snake that, for a long time, had signified only one thing.

Slytherin.

* * *

I promise the next chapter will be lighter and fluffier. And we'll eventually get our heros and heroines in the same place at the same time!!  
If you've got this far, you are patient indeed! But thank you very much for reading :)  
  
Big thanks to Victoria27, Actrez and Sweetginny86; you guys deserve medals for having the patience to read (and review) all my fics!! (I don't know what i would do with out you!)  
  
I hope you like this chapter also :)  
  
xx Susannah xx 


	6. Intrigues

Disclaimer: I own Lilith and Cassia and the plot. And anything/anybody else you don't recognise. The rest is the property of the great and hallowed J.K.Rowling.

Intrigues

There was a collective intake of breath around the room, alerting Ginny to the fact that everyone was watching them.

On a spontaneous, spur of the moment, urge, she muttered a glamour spell beneath her breath, effectively concealing the symbol from sight. She just hoped not too many people had had the chance to get a good look.

Ginny caught the sideways look that Lilith passed in her direction, but shrugged it off for the time being. They set about photographing the body as quickly as possible, rigamortis had long since set in, and the body was beginning to swell, the skin becoming loose around the shattered limbs.

"Take her to the mortuary," Lilith finally announced, content that they had enough pictures of the body.

Two wizards wearing what looked like trefoil green tarpaulin covered the body, wrapping the girl up tightly, before carrying her away.

"Lil, look at this," exclaimed Ginny, crouching by the spot where Cassia had lain.

Burnt into the floor were scorch marks, blackening the stone. They depicted almost exactly the position she'd been lying in.

"Curious," muttered the blonde. "She didn't look burnt at all."

"Not even singed," agreed Ginny.

The two women shared a long look.

* * *

Blaise watched the proceedings interestedly, understated as ever. 

"I didn't know the Potions Forensics were even aware of Express Owls. I mean what could be urgent in their department? An amoeba rebellion?" Draco's smooth sarcasm cut the air.

Potter snorted. Weasley looked somewhat indignant. "Watch you mouth Malfoy," he snapped.

"Oh yes, your sister works there does she not? Have they moved onto modern cases yet, like – oh, say, the 1900s?"

"Children, children," interjected Blaise, sensing the row. "We don't want to arrive at the crime scene with any black eyes or broken noses this time."

Harry nodded; "Last time neither of you were any help, mainly 'cause you were unconscious!"

Ron had the integrity to look embarrassed, but Draco just shrugged it off.

"Can I see the owl again?" the dark Slytherin asked.

The Boy Who Lived produced the notice from the PF department from beneath his thick woollen robe. He unfolded it and handed it to Blaise who studied it again.

"I thought Groppel wasn't fond of using Owls? We've never had one from them before," he asked Harry, studying the coat of arms embedded on the broken seal. It showed two vultures clasping a ring between them while a phoenix perched on the top. _I wonder why the PF department likes birds so much?_

"He's not," Ron replied instead. "Has a phobia of them actually."

"Ironic," Blaise remarked, glancing at the coat of arms again. "So I guess it must really have been urgent."

"I don't understand what it has to do with our case though," Draco wondered aloud. "I mean ok, yes, homicide, but there are other detectives they could have used."

Blaise shrugged. "At the bottom of the owl it just says 'all will become clear', so I guess we'll find out."

* * *

"I think we need to run a background check on our Miss Roberts, find out her timeline from leaving Hogwarts until now," Lilith murmured to Ginny as they continued to study the burnt stone. "But first I think we need to identify what exactly has done this to the floor." 

The redhead nodded her agreement. Taking out her wand, Ginny sat cross-legged on one side of the mark whilst Lilith sat opposite her on the other.

"_Identificius,"_ Ginny commanded. A small puff of smoke rose from where her wand had touched the blackened stone. As they watched it went a deep emerald green.

"Natural causes then," the blonde pondered. "Unusual." But then the puff went a rich purple before dissipating.

Ginny frowned. "That means magical causes though?"

Lilith's expression mirrored her own. "Maybe it the spell got confused?"

"That's not possible." Ginny shook her head.

"So this is the crime scene?" Both women looked up at the loud approaching voices.

"Oh you've got to be kidding," Ginny rolled her eyes, scrambling to her feet.

Lil came to stand beside her. "Friends of yours?" she inquired. Ron's red hair came into view first, behind the camped out Clough and Campbell's equipment. "Ah, no - relatives," the taller woman corrected herself.

"And worse," the redhead muttered as Harry, Malfoy and Zabini came into view.

Clough and Campbell intercepted the four men before they'd seen either Ginny or Lilith, asking for identification and purpose.

"Quick, let's run now, and they'll never know." The shorter Gryffindor looked up hopefully at Lil.

"Hun, I think you're going to have to face the music on this one." The blond smirked at Ginny's downcast expression.

The redhead pouted. "Fine, let's get it over and done with then." With that, she turned and began to walk towards the small gathering of men.

* * *

Yes, long time coming, apologies! But I'm getting quite into this story :) There are a few fair clues, and a few fair red herrings, so i guess you'll all have to pay attention to everything (hehe). All the same, I hope you enjoyed it.

Responses;

Sabine Strohem-Moss - I'm sorry this took so long m'dear, but i hope you enjoyed it. Thank you so much for all your reviews!

SaylaofSlyth - I'm glad you like it! Thanks for the review :)

Dark672 - Thankee for the review!

Actrez - Tis good that it's still pulling you in, let me know if it gets confusing though please!

Fionfee - yeah, I'm interested to see where it goes too. lol :)

xx Susannah xx


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